


Strapping

by brownbot5k



Series: Pretty Girls with Good Manners [12]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Declarations Of Love, Dildos, Dom/sub, Don't Ask Don't Tell, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Pegging, Requited Love, Self-Sacrifice, Service Top, Sex Toys, Strap-Ons, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28331289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brownbot5k/pseuds/brownbot5k
Summary: Topping was one of the three things Grace said she'd never do.  But then she realizes she has options besides her own anatomy... and in the process discovers there's more to her and Bob's relationship.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Pretty Girls with Good Manners [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005243
Kudos: 3





	Strapping

Bob has an impressive collection of sex toys, which he mostly doesn’t bother hiding. The one that first gets Grey’s attention (how can it not?) is an eye-searing sparkly hot pink and purple dildo shaped like something from some tropical aquarium.

“Yeah, my friend made that,” Bob says, picking it up. “It’s good, right? You should see it under a black light.” He sees Grey’s face, stifles laughter, and pats her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Grace, I don’t expect you to be into it.”

But that’s not it. Sure, she’s startled at first, but when she goes back to her own place and goes to bed, she can’t stop thinking about it.

First, because it’s pretty, a sinuous swirl of silicone in bright, cheerful colors. Like it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Like it’s fun.

More than that, though, she can’t get it out of her head. Bob must like it, if he keeps it right there in his headboard. Maybe it’s his favorite. Maybe he likes the way the ridges and swirls feel inside him. Maybe—

Grey turns over on her stomach and hugs her pillow, feeling squirmy and overheated. She’s never wanted to put her genitals inside someone. She still doesn’t; it feels wrong. But the dildo in Bob’s headboard looked nothing like any piece of human anatomy, in shape or color. Probably doesn’t feel like it either, being made of rubber.

She slides a hand down the front of her shorts, pushes her hips into it. The pressure feels good. If she was wearing that dildo, it’d push against her like this. And if she was wearing it while tucked…

She curls her fingers into herself and shivers, burying her face in the pillow. Yes, yes, it’d feel like that. It’d feel good…

She falls asleep with her hand between her legs, imagining Bob’s face and voice and the curve of his back.

It takes her a while to bring it up to him. After all, that’s one of the three things she said she wouldn’t do, and Bob’s never pushed back against that. If she wants it to happen, she’ll have to take the first step. But how?

The next time they’re at his place, she decides. It’s right there in his headboard; she can ask about it.

But the next time they’re sitting on his bed, his headboard’s empty.

“Where’s the…?”

Bob frowns, then realizes what she means. “Oh! In the dishwasher.” Her confusion must show. “Cleaning. Why?”

So he does like it.

Her throat locks, so she turns to SGSL: “I want to use it.”

Bob freezes.

“On you.”

“Oh.” Pause. She can’t read his expression; maybe this is like asking to use someone’s toothbrush.

“Okay?” She signs.

“More than. I just… thought that was a never.”

Grey shrugs. She did too, until she saw it in his hands. Until she realized she had options besides her own anatomy. “It looks fun.”

He laughs, pets her hair. “I’ve clearly been a bad influence on you, beautiful girl. So, were you planning on using your hands, or do you want a harness?”

He makes it sound ordinary, normal, and her throat unlocks enough to say, “Harness.”

“Thigh, face, or…?”

She is going to catch fire from embarrassment, but she says, “usual kind.”

Another pause from Bob, his expression distant. She taps him inquiringly.

“Nothing. Just imagining.” He stands up. “Want to buy it now?”

Yes. “Where?”

He grabs his bag. “Duct tape and cheap jeans is fine when you’re young and horny, but we’re a class act here; we’re using the Internet.” He pulls out his laptop. “You want leather or neoprene?”

She shrugs. “Not black?”

Bob is not a miracle worker. In her size and price range, the only non-black options are blue imitation denim, chain mail, or pink lace. She wrinkles her nose. Black neoprene it is.

By the time they get that sorted, the dishwasher has finished and cooled down. While Bob is unloading the aquarium dildo, he asks, “did you have your heart set on this one in particular? I have other options.”

Of course he does. “Show me?”

It turns out that Bob has a whole rainbow of them under his bed, each in their own separate little bag, mostly rubber, but also glass and metal. Some of them look how she expects a dildo to look, others are like the aquarium one. Most of them are beautiful.

“What kind do you like?” Bob asks.

Her mind goes blank.

Bob must see it; he reframes: “What do you want to fuck me with?”

The thought heats her up… and also breaks through the lock. “Not… not a normal one. More like this.” She indicates the aquarium dildo he’s still carrying, but while that narrows it down, there are still too many choices. Then she has a revelation. “Your favorite. Loan me your favorite.”

After all, that’s what got to her so badly, not the idea of using something on him, but using his favorite. And she can tell from Bob’s face that he likes the idea as much as she does.

He grins and cups her cheek. “How did I ever mistake you for vanilla?”

She kisses him and leaves him to it.

It turns out Bob can’t pick just one either, but he manages to narrow it down to three, and the pink and purple aquarium dildo is among them. Grey’s happy to take it. It’s pleasantly squeezable in her hands.

As she’s feeling it over, trying not to squish it too obviously, Bob clears his throat.

“I should warn you, Grace.”

She looks up.

He acts blithe, but his tone is apologetic. “I’m a lousy bottom; I take some work. Sorry.”

Grey smiles. “That’s fine.” She holds it up. “Help me practice?”

Bob isn’t work. Some kissing, heavy petting, hands and tongue and attention, and his softness melts like butter. She learns the way he breathes, the way he moves, the way he talks as his body moves through its paces. She doesn’t notice the clock; all that matters is him. (Though that isn’t always a good thing. Once, she falls asleep in the middle of proceedings, much to Bob’s dismay, and another time, he has to stop her because it’s been long enough that he needs to eat something.)

Bob seems a little surprised at her focus, but not at all displeased. He knows exactly what he wants and how he wants it, and he gives good directions, which only get better once it becomes clear Grey takes them well. What starts as “practice” quickly becomes sex in its own right, Bob clutching at her shoulders or hugging her neck, grinning as she slides her fingers or the toy into him.

“You’re going to drain me dry, beautiful girl; leave something for when the harness gets here!” he chides, but he’s laughing when he says it and never tries to stop her.

The day the package arrives, they race up to his apartment with its bigger, better bed. Bob shoves the package into her hands and Grey shuts herself in the bathroom.

The harness fits fine, thank goodness, though getting the whole rig on comfortably takes a couple tries—the dildo has to be worked through the O-ring of the harness first and the whole contraption pulled halfway up her thighs so she can get herself situated. She feels lumpish and stupid, but it’s worth it when she finally gets it all in place and sees herself in the bathroom mirror.

She doesn’t look like a man at all. She looks like herself. And when she comes out, she finds Bob naked on the bed, all black and brown and gold in the stripes of sunlight from the window, and when he sees her, he swallows and says, “I should’ve put you in lace.”

Grey smiles and comes over to kiss him and press him back on the bed, enjoying the unfamiliar weight in her shorts—which is Bob’s, not hers. When it brushes against his thigh, he jumps a little, but the sound he makes is excited.

It’s their weekend. They have all the time in the world, and Grey’s had months to learn Bob’s body. She’s almost disappointed that he warms up and opens to her so quickly, and when he does, his expression is almost comedic.

“I am so glad you changed your mind about this,” he swears. “Holy shit, if I’d known—”

She laughs and kisses his cheek.

“Wait, hold on, a little—there.” His nails dig into her back and she arches into it, thrusts instinctively, and Bob makes a rapturous noise. “Yes, just like that, beautiful girl, don’t speed up, keep it right there—yes!” His thighs squeeze her waist. “Perfect, fucking perfect, good girl—”

This feels nothing like Grey’s awful attempts to act the boy in high school. This feels right. With everything tucked up inside her, the base of the dildo rides perfect. She doubts she could come from it, this time anyway, but that’s fine. What she really wants is to make Bob come this way.

She’s going to get her wish. His voice is getting rough and broken.

“Beautiful, perfect girl, I want to keep you like this forever—”

“You can keep me,” she says.

That makes him gasp and snap his hips like he’s almost there, but he says, “No, no—”

It’s cheating, but she’s seen the look in Bob’s eyes when he shaves her, when he gets her on her knees, when he marks her up. And she wants to, so badly, so she ducks her head and whispers in his ear, “I’m yours.”

Bob’s eyes go wide and he comes almost sobbing, but when he comes down, his expression is raw. Nervous.

“You shouldn’t say that to me, Grace,” he says, touching her cheek.

She nuzzles into his palm, kisses it. “Why?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I like it too much.”

“I like it too,” she says. “I like being yours.”

He’s silent a moment, petting her hair. “Even when I’m gone?”

“Yes.” That’s how she works. She loves people. They don’t have to love her back—in fact, it’s better they don’t. Hurts less that way. She’s known from the start that one day Bob will go, and every tomorrow is just an added bonus. It only hurts when Bob says he loves her.

Apparently he isn’t the same way; he has to think about it for a while. Then he says, “you know this won’t blow over for you, right?”

She pulls back so she can frown at him.

“They passed the Homeland Security Act today; the restructure is official and mandated now. The cowboy days are over, Grace. There’s no way we’ve hidden this from Neurophysics; they already know and the only reason they haven’t told yet is Andersen wants to keep his carrot and stick. But even if I leave without a hitch and you go back to being his favorite workhorse, eventually they’ll crack the fizzies, or one of them will rat you out, and they’ll send you to the glue factory.”

“I know,” Grey says.

Bob’s voice goes sharp. “You know? How long have you known?”

“Always known.” It was the one thing Andersen ever required of her, that she keep her hands to herself. She knew what she was doing the moment she said yes to Bob on Valentine’s Day. Andersen’s protection is long gone.

“Well, what the hell do you plan on doing, then? You can’t keep doing this to your body, and the moment you mention retirement, they’re going to out you. You’ll never see those benefits. What are you going to do, just die in the field and never get old?”

He says it like he intends it to be a joke, but when it comes out, it isn’t.

Grey gets off the bed and reaches for her clothes.

Bob sits up in bed. “I’m right, aren’t I? That’s your retirement plan.”

Grey starts getting dressed.

“That’s why you treat yourself like cannon fodder. You never planned on living long enough to deal with the consequences, did you?” His voice is getting louder, sharper. “You know, it bugged me that you, Ms. Forever, never worried about me leaving, but I didn’t question it because…” he pauses. “Because it was convenient for me. But you’ve planned this… how long did you have this planned?”

Grey could stay silent, but what’s the point? “Before Diwali,” she says.

She sees that hit him, work through. “That meeting. You said they wanted you out of the field.”

Grey says nothing, just buttons her shirt.

“Is that why it took until Valentine’s Day for you to cave? What, you didn’t want any loose ends?”

“Not like that,” she says.

“Well, what is it then? What am I, anyway? Your last hurrah?”

He makes it sound so unreasonable, like she’s stupid, and he must realize she’s starting to leave, because he rushes to take her arm. She throws it off.

“Grace, stop it. This is crazy. You don’t have to do this, not for these assholes. What have they ever done for you?”

The words rip out of her. “They made me useful!”

She has never raised her voice to Bob before, and it makes him fall back a step, like he’s scared of her. Grey hates it. She hates all of it, feeling angry, raising her voice, being the kind of person other people are afraid of.

Her throat locks, but she hates Bob standing away from her, so she turns to SGSL even though she’s too upset to sign clear or careful.

“You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re going places. When you leave the PIN,” because he will, she’s always known he will, “you will have other jobs, other people who love you. You’ll be fine. You’ll be—” her mind is starting to lock, fuzz out. “You’ll be—”

Golden. Because that’s how Bob has always been, golden and unstoppable, no matter how people try to grind him down. No one, not the PIN, not the government, not the world, has ever been able to stop Bob from being himself. It’s why Grey loves him. It’s why she’s always known he’ll leave. Because he deserves someone as golden as him, and Grey’s only ever been good at one thing: her job. Her amoral, uncaring, miserable job.

She’s starting to gulp air, rock in place. She doesn’t want Bob to see her like this, but she’s locked, unable to move.

Bob looks stricken. “Grace…”

He’s the only one who’s ever treated her like a beautiful girl. All she wanted was to be able to enjoy that until he left, heart light and conscience clear, and she can’t even do that.

Bob reaches up to cup her face. It’s what makes her realize she’s crying.

“You are so much more than this hellhole,” he says, “and don’t tell me I’m lying, because I am a picky, pushy bottom, Grace, and you topped me like an angel tonight. They sure as hell didn’t teach you that here.”

She starts to shake her head but he tightens his hold, tilts her a little so she has to look at him.

“No, no, I’m not done, you listen.” His voice is a heated whisper. “The reason I haven’t left this place long since is, I realized that when I do, they’re going to blame you. Everyone knows we’re close, I can’t escape without the help of someone who knows every angle of this place, you’re already on their radar, and I’m a selfish, flighty son of a bitch, but I’m not letting you take that fall for me, Grace, even if that’s what you think you have to do.”

She starts to shake her head again, but he holds her tight and holds her eyes.

“Listen to me. I don’t want you to die for this job, and I sure as hell don’t want you to die for me. I want you to come with me. I want to keep you.”

He looks as startled to have said it as she was to hear it but forges ahead.

“Grace, when I have a short-term fling, I don’t stick around for almost a damn year learning a language I can never put on my C.V. and confessing my feelings in the throes of orgasm. You’ve loved me this whole damn year, I love you, and I’m keeping you.” He pulls his handkerchief from his pocket and wipes her tears. “Okay?”

Grey stares at him. “I’ll slow you down,” she says.

“No, you won’t.” He takes a deep breath. “Now, do you want to go on the run with me or not?”

He stands there, holding her face in his hands, waiting for her to think it through, move everything around in her head. His face is open, worried but hopeful.

Bob wants to keep her. Bob wants her.

“Yes,” Grey says, and her heart opens again.


End file.
